


Blame Me

by Nopholom



Series: Fox Blood (Kumiho and Vampire) [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monsters, Angst, Blood Drinking, Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: Goody wakes up after the battle of Rose Creek and realises he has caused something terrible to happen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill: Blame Me
> 
> I take requests over on http://nopholom.tumblr.com/ask (you can also find some more Fox Blood ficlets and information on my tumblr that I haven't made into AO3 worthy things yet). Though I'm having an op on Tuesday so who knows how quickly I'll manage to fill anything, that said even w/out surgery it's taken me 5 days to get this one sorted, and I wrote this whole thing today, inspiration etc etc.

Goody awoke to the sound of sobbing, soft and broken, slightly stifled, and he thought maybe he’d died again, maybe he was being mourned, but then why had he woken? He tried to move his head, felt his skin crack and begin to weep, he couldn’t even bring himself to let out a moan of pain, he persisted though, pushing the side of his face into a pillow and feeling it stick to his blistered skin, what had happened? Bogue’s men had come, they had a Gatling gun, it had been carnage, he remembered shooting riders going after Faraday, and that’s it.

A sob disrupted his attempt to remember and he forced his eyes to focus through the bleary light in the room, the curtains were drawn but light filtered in, making it hard for him to see; when he _could_ see though, he wished he’d never woken up.

Billy was on his knees, head bowed, tears falling freely as he sat amid a sea of crimson Korean scrawling, his hands were covered in blood, from fingertips to elbows, it wept into the rolled sleeves of his shirt, spreading further, and hanging from his trembling hands was limp fur, tacky with blood, mangled and broken, protruding from the fur was blood soaked bone, tendrils of inky black smoke wafting up from the butchered vertebrae. Below his hands, shimmering in the dim light, glistening with blood, was one of Billy’s knives, Goody managed to let out a soft moan and Billy’s dull gaze snapped up to him just as he succumbed to the pain in his body and lost consciousness.

 

The next time he awoke he felt worse, like his nerves had all grouped up in order to tell him they weren’t happy, everything hurt, he felt like he’d been run through a hundred times, set on fire, and drawn behind a horse, not necessarily in that order. He could hardly move, didn’t want to either, but he remembered Billy, that haunted look in his eyes, the blood, the writing, _the knife_ ; with a groan of pain that burned his throat, he forced his head sideways once more, catching a glimpse of black flakes and rusty brown smears on the pillow before his cheek covered it. The room looked untouched, as though maybe he’d imagined what he’d seen, but he forced a pull of air through his nose that had him moaning again, and he could smell the blood beneath the soapy smell that fogged the air. The door creaked open then and Goody saw a figure step in, Sam,

“Bill…” he rasped, mouth dry, unable to form the word fully,

“He’s resting,” Sam assured him, crossing the room with a metal cup in his hand,

“Hurt…” he moaned, “he’s…” he broke off, unable to continue, throat too raw, lips too sore. Sam knelt by the bed and pressed the warm metal to Goody’s lips, it stuck to his skin and as Sam tipped it up, warm blood, maybe a few hours out of body but heated through, glossed over his lips like heavenly medicine. It was Billy’s, he could taste it, the whisky like burn as it slid down his throat like nectar, though the taste was quickly overwhelmed by the pain of swallowing, he wanted to speak but couldn’t, instead looking at Sam through the corner of his eye, looking past crusted flakes of black.

He still didn’t know what had happened, to him _or_ to Billy, and Sam didn’t seem to be particularly forthright with information, instead taking the cup away once it was empty and sighing, “You should get some sleep,” he insisted, and there wasn’t really much else Goody could do but allow himself to drift off once more.

 

He felt better the next time he woke up properly, he vaguely recalled being conscious for long enough to have cups of Billy’s blood poured down his raw throat before passing out again, figured that must’ve been going on between his last two bouts of consciousness as well, it was always Sam or Ms Cullen, never Billy himself. He could move his head without it sticking to the pillow now and with considerably less pain, had even managed to raise a hand up past his hip to settle on his stomach, it wasn’t much but it was something. He wanted to sit up, to move and find out what had happened, sluggishly trying to sit up when the door opened and Sam walked in,

“Damn it Goody lie _down_ ,” Sam insisted, touching Goody _very_ carefully as he eased him down onto his back again,

“Sam what…” his voice was rasping and talking hurt, “what happened?” he asked, licking his dry lips, they didn’t feel as chapped or flaky as they had the last time he’d woken.

“We won,” Sam said simply,

“Did we… was anyone hurt?” of course people were hurt, but he meant specifically,

“Horne took a few arrows, he’s recovering now though, and Faraday played the hero and almost got himself blown up…” Sam pulled a chair to Goody’s bedside and was about to sit down, “Do you need a drink? Are you hungry? It’s been about an hour,” Sam asked,

“What about Billy,” Goody pressed,

“Billy’s fine…” There was a tightness to his voice that said he wasn’t being honest, a quick inhale from Goody confirmed it, “Don’t do that,” Sam narrowed his eyes, “Don’t _smell_ me,” he elaborated and Goody narrowed his eyes,

“Don’t lie to me,” Goody licked his lips again, this was killing him but he needed to know what Billy had done, why he hadn’t come back,

“Billy’s… he’s going to be fine,” this was more honest but it wasn’t enough for Goody,

“What did he do here?” he asked, trying to be more clear on what he wanted to know. Sam looked downright uncomfortable at the question, averted his gaze and curled his fingers around the back of the chair, still not willing to sit down,

“I… it’s not really my place to talk about it,” Sam sighed, “Give him some time, concentrate on getting better, he’ll come to you when he’s ready,” he explained and Goody looked up at the ceiling rather than face him, could feel tears stinging his eyes as guilt began to seep into his conscious mind, as it was becoming clear that whatever Billy had done, he’d done it because of _him_.

“What happened to _me_?” he asked instead, trying not to focus on Billy’s actions,

“You got shot,” Sam said,

“I’ve been shot before, this is not shot,” he snapped irritably, pain flashing through him at the sudden bite of words,

“If you let me finish, this is what happens when you get shot so much you fall off a goddamn church roof and end up face up in the sun in the middle of a battle zone,” Sam stated, voice clipped and curt, his patience for Goody’s mood was wearing thin. His words sank in and were it warm, Goody’s blood would have run cold, in the middle of a battle, nobody would think to drag the vampire out of the sun, and none of the townsfolk had really _known_.

He remembered burning, remembered gaining some sense of consciousness and screaming himself raw as he _died_ out there on the floor, his insides boiling and his outsides blistering and cracking and weeping. He felt panic rise in his chest and suddenly his lungs were working to breathe, gasping and struggling to draw in nigh on useless breaths as his body relived dying in vivid detail.

“Goody? Goody!” Sam called out to him but he sounded far away, under water and obscured by screaming that Goody didn’t even realise was coming from his own mouth until that brief moment of clarity just before he lost consciousness.

 

He didn’t know how long had passed since the last time he’d woken up, but he could move again, sitting up in bed and looking at the pillow his head had been on, it was cleaner than it had been before, no smears of blood or flakes of burnt skin, just an imprint where his head had been. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly, and aside from an odd fatigue, he seemed to be whole again, his skin was fresh and untainted by post-mortem injuries, and he didn’t feel like every move he made was sending a million needles through his nerve endings. He was still staring at his hands when the door opened, not looking up, he figured someone had found out he was awake, probably heard him moving and decided to bring him a drink.

“I’m not hungry,” he rasped,

“That’s a shame…” he looked up then, eyes wide as he saw Billy standing there looking… well looking like _himself_ , he didn’t look scared, he wasn’t covered in blood any more, he was here and he was okay, or at least he _seemed_ okay. He tried to disentangle himself from the bedsheets but couldn’t,

“ _Billy_ ,” he gasped, struggling with the sheets, Billy approached him and helped him, but didn’t let him get up, instead sitting on the edge of the bed and cradling his face, “You’re okay…” Goody sighed, leaning into Billy’s searing hot touch,

“So are you…” Billy smiled softly, Goody searched his eyes and only saw warmth and relief there, Billy’s hands _rasped_ over Goody’s scalp and Goody frowned at the feeling, lifting his hand to touch through short, rough hair, like his head had been shaved and was growing out.

“What…” the burning, of _course_ his hair had burned, “How do I look?” he laughed uneasily,

“Different… but alive,” Billy chuckled, stroking where Goody’s fingers had run, moving his hands to cup Goody’s jaw on either side and draw him in for a kiss. Goody moved to lace his fingers through Billy’s hair, it felt infinitely better than his own rough scalp, soft and silky and everything Goody remembered about it. He kissed Billy hard, he never wanted to stop, wanted to take in everything Billy was, but he didn’t deserve him, he had made Billy do the unspeakable,

“Billy…” he murmured against Billy’s lips, easing him away, “What I saw… what you did…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Billy insisted, kissing him again, pushing against him and easing him down on the bed,

“Billy… stop…” he said, sighing in spite of himself as Billy moved to straddle him, mouth seeking his hungrily, desperate to be close to him, “Please… we need to talk about this,” he was crying, he could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, guilt and shame racking his entire body,

“Just fuck me Goody…” Billy whispered, “I need you,” he tried, curling his fingers into the front of the loose shirt Goody had been dressed in,

“You don’t need me,” Goody turned his head away from Billy’s searching lips, scrunched his eyes closed and let tears spill onto the pillow,

“I do,” Billy whispered hot against his ear, kissing him softly, “Goody…”

“No… Jesus Billy I’m _killing_ you,” Goody whimpered as it truly sunk in what he’d done, what he’d _made_ Billy do.

“No…” Billy breathed, “You’re not… It’s not your fault…”

“Yes, it is,” Goody insisted, “I should be dead,” he sobbed, trying to shove Billy away, Billy resisted but moved when Goody stopped pushing, eased himself to sit at the end of the bed, drew his knees to his chest and looked, quite honestly, like a scared child. “I should be _dead_ ,” he repeated weakly, “I should be dead, burnt to a crisp, but I’m not…” he whispered, “I’m not because of what _you_ did to yourself…” images of the blood, of the strange symbols he had recognised as Korean, the black fur, the smoke, “ _You cut off your own tail_ ,” he hissed, horrified with the thought, “to bring me back…”

“Yes, to _bring you back_ ,” Billy looked up at him with hard eyes, “You _died_ Goody, we both did, but _I_ had nine tails, nine _lives_ ,” his jaw was a hard line as he gritted out his words, “I lost one when the Gatling got us, but I survived, and I _heard_ you Goody, I heard you screaming as you were _burned alive_ , and I couldn’t move, I was in _so much pain_ I couldn’t save you,” he was crying too now, it was so jarring and uncharacteristic of him, Goody had _never_ seen him cry before coming here, and they’d been together for almost twenty years now.

“But… why cut off your own tail? Why put yourself through that for me?” he asked, he didn’t understand why Billy would ever consider hurting himself so badly, Goody had _seen_ one of Billy’s kind losing their tails, had seen Billy do that to another Kumiho, one that had threatened what they had together, the creature had wailed and begged for mercy, sworn endlessly that it would leave and never see them again, and Billy had remained stony faced the whole time as he broke and sawed off _every. Single. Tail._ Torturing that creature until it had no voice left, til all nine pale tails were broken and bloody on the ground, it had haunted Goody’s nightmares for months.

“Because I couldn’t bear the thought of living nigh on forever in a world without _you_ …” Billy whispered, “Because I _love_ you,” Goody felt like he’d been struck by that confession, a hit to the face that he didn’t know how to recover from, so he stared, wide-watery-eyed and confused, “I had to… I _had_ to…” Billy chanted quietly, his form shifting slightly, flickering to something more feral but still human, seven tails twitching nervously behind him as black ears pressed flush to his head. Goody moved then, edged across the bed and reached out, Billy flinched, but Goody pressed on, easing his hand through Billy’s hair, behind a flat black ear, Billy pushed his head into the touch this time, “I had to…” he repeated and Goody nodded,

“Okay… but it’s on _me_ ,” he answered, “I brought us here, I got myself killed, I’m the reason you did it,” he whispered and Billy looked like he wanted to answer back, to deny him this blame, but Goody pleaded him with his eyes, pressed a light kiss to his lips, “It’s on _me_ ,” reluctantly, Billy nodded, accepted his terms, and pushed Goody down onto his back once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I may add something to this, a bit of smut to make up for the sad, but I've not decided yet.


End file.
